In The Cold, Cold Night
by MansyPansy
Summary: A short Rabastan Lestrange Antonin Dolohov OneShot, as requested by my best friend.


Author's note: Rabastan Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov belong to JK Rowling, and not me. As much as I wish that they did.

This OneShot was requested by my best friend Bijou, and as it is my first OneShot, it may not be the best, enjoy.

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Night time. Thats all Antonin Dolohov ever seemed to see, and it had started to show. His skin, once vibrant, alluring, full of life, had now turned pale, for he hadn't seen the sunlight in many, many days, and it was beginning to take its toll on him.

Night, endless dark, star-less night. It was in the dead air, that surrounded all of the expensive posessions in this dreadful manor, it was in the candles, whose light flickered, casting shadows upon the floor. And it was in the dark, sensual eyes of the man who was watching him in the otherwise, vacant room. Watching him raise the glass of alcohol to his lips, 'Oh god, his lips.' The other man thought. Watching him, not knowing that he was watching a man who was watching him.

"Rabastan." Antonin spoke, in that masculine, sexy, yet somehow refined tone of his, a voice that drove Rabastan Lestrange mad with desire. "Yes?" Rabastan spoke, smoothing his unusually red hair.

Antonin took a final sip of his drink, and set the glass down onto the coffee table, getting up from his armchair. Rabastan had to fight the urge to admire him as he walked. The way his long, black leather coat swished so elegantly with every movement, the way his dark clothing sat upon his toned body. "Oh..Oh Merlin." Rabastan muttered, only realizing that he had been admiring Dolohov even as he stood infront of him, staring at him rather weirdly.

Antonin opened his mouth to speak, only to be inturrupted by the sound of glass breaking. The glass containing his alcohol had been broken somehow, and now it was soaking into Lucius's fine, imported turkish carpet.

'Had Rabastan done this?' Antonin wondered, looking at the other man, who had yet to say anything for quite some time now. Antonin looked down at Rabastan's slender hands, and oddly, there was no wand in either hand. 'How could he have done it?' he wondered, finding his eye wandering up the other man's body, passing over his slender, defined thighs. Dolohov quickly caught himself and cleared his throat a seccond time. "..How long have you been watching me?" he asked, eyeing the other man suspiciously.

Rabastan sighed, knowing that he coulden't lie, not to a man who had once attended Durmstrang. Defeated, he said "Four years."

Dolohov looked taken aback, had Rabastan been standing there for four years? That was quite impossible. Unless he had meant..

Rabastan looked rather unphased and took a step closer to Dolohov, running a hand down the sleeve of his coat. "You know I have been, Ant. And don't act like you don't want me too." Antonin froze. True, he had noticed his eye wandering over Rabastan lately, but did he really "want" him?

"That is rediculous." Antonin said flatly.

Rabastan took another few steps closer, their faces were less than an inch apart now, Rabastan smiled slightly, whispering. "You're rediculous, Ant."

Antonin coulden't take it anymore, placing a hand upon the other man's back, he drew his close friend into a brief kiss.

Rabastan laughed rather teasingly. "Oh come on, Ant. You can do better than that. Let the master show you how its done." Antonin felt himself being drawn to the male Lestrange, he could feel his hot, toned body pressed up against his own, even through clothing and a thick coat he coulden't help but gasp slightly as he felt Rabastans hand slowly move down and grasp his rear, as his tongue continued its assault on Antonin's mouth.

He ran his hands through Rabastans thick, ginger locks as he felt his coat slide off of his shoulders, and hit the ground with a small thud of worn leather.

Rabastan pulled away, smirking at him, Antonin stepped back from his abandoned coat and narrowed his eyes.

He pulled Rabastan into another kiss, his tongue ravishing Rabastans mouth, as the red haired Lestrange moaned softly against his lips.

Dolohov began to unbutton the other man's shirt, stopping to reach underneath it and rake his nails across his chest, leaving several small, narrow cuts. Rabastan gasped against Dolohov's lips at the sudden burst of pain, digging his own nails into Dolohov's shoulder.

Antonin smiled wickedly against Rabastan's lips and pulled away, lowering his head as he unbuttoned the rest of the other man's shirt, and began licking the blood from Rabastan's cuts at a painfully slow rate.

Rabastan moaned slightly, letting his shirt come off completely onto the floor. It was such a weird sensation for him, but that made it all the more pleasurable for Dolohov.

It felt like an eternity before Dolohov rose to his full height, with some of Rabastan's blood still on his lips.

This time it was Rabastan who initiated the kiss, not caring that the metallic taste in the other man's mouth was his own blood, he allowed himself to take in the plunder of the slavic man's mouth.

When he pulled away once more, he was shoved against the wall by the Ukrainian, who was now unbuttoning his shirt. Rabastan felt a spasm of pleasure as Dolohov's newly bare skin brushed against his own, forcing him even further against the wall.

Dolohov's hands explored Rabastan's body, brushing over his abs and hips, stopping to slip a hand into Rabastan's pocket. Rabastan gasped with suprise, feeling another man's hand move against a very sensitive area, as Dolohov innocently pretended to be looking for droobles, knowing consciously, that he had none.

"Oh god, Ant. This is so wrong." Rabastan whispered, wrapping his legs around Dolohov's waist, grinding his pelvis roughly against the other mans'.

Antonin moaned with pleasure, taking Rabastan's lips with his own once more.

"But its what you wanted." Dolohov purred softly into the ear of the other man, letting his natural Ukrainian accent slip through as he pinned Rabastan's arms above his head. "Tell me it is." He commanded.

Rabastan struggled against the Ukrainian's hold, longing to touch him. "It is!" He exclaimed as Antonin slipped his free hand back into Rabastan's pocket. "What is?" He purred to the Lestrange, teasingly.

Rabastan felt himself growing more aroused by the moment as Dolohov's hand moved at a painfully slow pace, forcing him to cry out with longing. "You are!"

Dolohov finally released his hands, satisfied. And with one quick movement, he found Rabastan behind him. Ohh Ant.. You will regret that." He whispered, his lips brushing against Dolohov's neck, as one of his hands slid down Dolohov's abdomen.

Antonin could tell exactly what the red headed man was planning to do, and he made no effort to stop him.

-Fade to black-


End file.
